


In Another World, But Hopefully In This One Too

by khevzs



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: And she's with cool aunt waverly, Angst, Baby Earp is here, Earp sisters, F/F, F/M, For the first part at least, It gets better on the second part, M/M, Nicole and Shae is very brief, Prompt from twitter, of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khevzs/pseuds/khevzs
Summary: In another world, Nicole Haught-Pressman would be hers.Although she knows the woman is never going to be hers, Waverly Earp can't seem to stay away.A #WayHaught AU where Nicole Haught Pressman has been smiling at her from her front porch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is all thanks to [@heathermgirls](https://twitter.com/heathermgirls/status/1064790365323046912) on twitter, so it is only right to dedicate this to her. Thank you for the inspiration, bud. Please let me know your AO3 username so I can gift this to ya!
> 
> I had to divert from some canons for this to fit the plot, like Nicole’s birthday, Doc’s appearance, Alice’s birthday too, probably. I hope that’s okay. I threw in a couple of other ingredients in there too, to widen the possibilities for interaction.
> 
> To all y'all who's waiting, I'm so scared to disappoint you T.T But I hope you enjoy at least!

When Waverly Earp was 6 years old and still in primary school, she loved the arts and crafts subject. It started with simple coloring tasks and then later on grew into bigger projects, because doing things with her bare hands, for her, is fascinating. It doesn’t matter how dirty her hands end up being after said projects, whether it be glue or paint, because the task of cleaning all the grime off is another part of the process that young Waverly enjoys.

Of course, it’s the satisfaction of seeing her work finally completed that really does it for her. She takes pride in every little DIY and school project that she accomplishes, and a teacher’s A+ grade is just a bonus. She passes every single arts subject with flying colors ever since then.

So it isn’t really a surprise that Waverly took that habit way into her adulthood. At 24, her most recent addiction is her front lawn. Every weekday at 9am, without miss, she can be found kneeling on the dirt, elbows deep in soil. Sometimes there’s a sunhat, but _always_ a glowing smile on her face.

As she do today.

Waverly does not bother with gloves as she digs with bare hands into the dirt to make room for her new set of hydrangeas. The soil gets into her short nails and it would be hard to clean off later, but it never bothers her. She loves the feeling of dirt in her fingers; it makes her feel like she’s making a progress.

She really just started this new habit before the summer, and the left half of her front lawn is already planted with green shrubs. Looking at what she has done so far, Waverly estimates that the right half would be finished by the weekend, and then all that’s left is to wait for spring so the flowers can bloom. She’s _so_ stoked for the seasons to change.

Right on time, a school bus rolls in front of her house and beeps once as the doors hiss open.

“Good morning, Ms. Sunshine,” greets a mustachioed man behind the wheels.

Momentarily stopping in her task, Waverly’s smile glows brighter than the sun—it’s where she got the nickname, in fact. “Good morning, John Henry.”

John Henry Holliday and Waverly goes way back. He was in the same primary and high school as she was. They didn’t use to spend a lot of time then, but they were good friends, especially now that he’s driving the yellow bus for Purgatory Primary School.

“Lookin’ good today.” The man’s blue eyes crinkle on the corners, no malice whatsoever, a sign of his great upbringing. It’s actually what makes him so good with the kids.

Waverly gives him a stern look, but the smile she’s trying to hold in softens the look anyway. “You say that every day.”

“It’s because you look good every day!”

Waverly throws him a delighted laugh, “Oh, you.” She turns back to her front door and yells, “Honey, your bus is here!”

Right in character, a small bundle of joy comes barreling out the front door, a short leg sticking out first as it kicks the door open. The little girl is wrapped in a light jacket with gloves sticking out the front pockets, _for when the weather changes honey_ , Waverly insists. Her long brown hair resembles that of Waverly’s under her sunhat, in soft flowing waves.

Before she gets busy in her garden, Waverly wakes up much earlier than 9am to help Alice Michelle Earp get ready for primary school. She bathes the kid, and then makes her pancakes for breakfast. She’s never hard to feed, Waverly was lucky, so she can leave her to finish her food as she gets started on her front lawn.

“Bye, Waverly!” The smallest Earp continues running on, past Waverly, but right before she climbs up the bus, Waverly stops her.

“Oh, no, no. Not so fast, kid. Where’s my kiss?” Waverly pouts.

Alice considerably slows down as she approaches the area where Waverly is still kneeling. “Sorry.” She gives a loud peck to Waverly’s lips, and then a short, but tight, hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kiddo. Have fun!”

Waverly watches from over the shrubs as her baby girl climbs into the bus. John Henry tips his baseball hat as a goodbye before the door closes and the bus disappears out of sight around the corner of their suburban neighborhood.

Waverly sighs as she goes back to her task at hand. She’s engrossed in it once again for at least fifteen minutes before a slamming screen door breaks her trance. When she’s busy with something she loves, nothing usually snaps her out of it easily—except, well, they always say in every rule there’s an exception, and Waverly’s exception happens to be a screen door from her next door neighbor. Because Waverly knows it’s _her_. And Waverly’s heart pumps faster when she knows _she’s_ near her vicinity.

Waverly hates herself for it, but she stops what she’s doing anyway to watch as the house right across from her opens, the screen door hitting the wall adjacent to it. Nicole Haught-Pressman, in all her 5’9” glory and bright red hair, stumbles out clumsily.

She looks around if she bothered anyone with the noise, spotting Waverly as the only other person awake at the early hours of the day, and gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

Waverly smiles in turn, maybe for the lack of anything better to say, but most probably because her heart is in her throat. But then it drops. It drops low, _low_ in her belly, as Shae Pressman-Haught walks out after the redhead, giggling at her clumsy wife. “You’re a textbook klutz, Nicole.”

Shae is as tall as Nicole, with olive skin to compliment her wife’s fair one. Her round brown eyes are kind as they meet Waverly’s, and they share a polite smile because that’s what good neighbors do, and they _are_ great neighbors.

But then Waverly hates herself more as she watches Nicole kiss her wife goodbye, because deep in her chest she wishes, _hopes_ , that she is in Shae’s place. Shae, who’s barely home because she takes 30-hour shifts as a doctor, and is probably always asleep when she is indeed home. Shae, who gets to kiss Nicole hello, goodbye, and every time in between. Shae, who shares the same bed as the neighborhood’s gentle redhead. Shae, who probably deserves all of Nicole’s love anyway.

“Bye, honey!”

Nicole is on the curb now, after having closed the car door for Shae. She watches as the red Ecosport disappears at the same bend the school bus disappeared at earlier. Hands akimbo, she turns to Waverly, who in turn tries to act buried in garden work.

“He’s right, you know,” Nicole says slightly louder to reach across the road.

Waverly gives her a confused look. “What? Who?”

“John Henry. You _do_ look good every day.” And the sun is rising behind Waverly now, but she is _blinded_ by the two dimples that pops out of the older woman’s cheeks, her shoulder-length hair afire under the natural spotlight of the sun shining down on her.

 _Oh so she heard_ , Waverly thinks, a hint of blush creeping from her neck to her cheeks, not having anything to do with the heat. At all.

“Oh.” Flustered like a damn schoolgirl, Waverly stammers, “Thank you, I guess.”

Nicole turns to get back inside her house, throwing a last smile from her front porch. “Have a nice day, Ms. Earp.”

Waverly is left dumbfounded kneeling on the dirt at the wake of Nicole’s compliment, and she loves gardening, she _really_ does, but it takes her five seconds flat to get inside her own house and slam the door shut, abandoning her work on the lawn.

Resting her back against the door, she listens as her heart tries to beat right out of her chest, shatter through the wood on her back, cross the street, and into Nicole’s arms.

But she doesn’t let it, clutching hard at the front of her shirt. Never in a million years. Because Nicole Haught-Pressman is married to a gorgeous lady doctor, and Waverly is not the kind of woman who interferes with other people’s marriages, even if she likes the other woman _so_ much it hurts on days like this.

Days when she sees them kiss, sweet, and perfect together.

It hurts, but she grips at her sky blue shirt tighter, leaving mud stains all over, and doesn’t let her heart go anywhere it doesn’t belong in. Maybe in another world. Maybe there, her heart belongs with Nicole, and Nicole’s hers.

In another world, Nicole Haught-Pressman is not a Pressman at all, but an Earp.

In another world, Nicole Haught will be hers.

***

The deep kitchen sink is filled with soapy water as Waverly angrily scrubs at the shirt she was wearing earlier in the day. The shirt is almost ripping in half at the intensity of her hands, but she doesn’t notice because she’s too busy muttering hatred for herself. Its times like this that she’s glad to have the house to herself, so she could talk out loud. She seems to be thinking better that way.

She berates herself, again and again, why she had to develop a crush on her married neighbor. She had other neighbors, it didn’t have to be Nicole, for Pete’s sake. But it was her and her dimples and her red hair that smiled at Waverly from her front porch—as seems to be their habit now—that first day after Shae and her moved in across the road.

She was wearing a brown cardigan and a cotton green shirt on top of her blue jeans back then. The overall outfit made her look soft, and when she smiled in a polite greeting, Waverly knew she’s screwed. The redhead drew her in like the tides to the moon.

That’s a year ago now. That small crush steadily growing with every small interaction that they have across the neighborhood. Sometimes Nicole is walking her dog, a golden retriever named Stardust, out, and they would exchange waves. Some mornings when she’s up early, she greets Waverly while she works on her garden. A couple of weekends their paths cross at the community store, but their conversation end the moment they part ways at the counter.

Waverly doesn’t take this as anything but a nice neighborly gesture, as is the compliment from earlier in the day. Because that’s just that, surely, since Nicole is very happily married. She surely isn’t the type to flirt with other women when her wife is not around. As far as Waverly knows, and she knows this from when she happens to glance across the street from time to time, that Nicole spends her time alone when Shae is not home. And just because she throws Waverly smiles and nice words every now and then from her own lawn doesn’t mean she likes Waverly _that_ way. It also doesn’t mean that she likes Waverly because she’s a woman loving woman. Nicole is just generally nice to people.

But Waverly just… cannot help her feelings. They haven’t even exchanged more than ten sentences at a time ever since Nicole moved, but already Waverly is smitten. And the sting, the pinprick of pain at her chest when she knows Nicole and her is never gonna happen, is inevitable too.

Frustrated, she scrubs at the mud stain harder.

“Of all people, you have to ridiculously pine over a married woman.”

“What is a pine, Waverly?”

Waverly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Alice’s voice. “Oh my God, you scared me! How long have you been here?”

It’s a useless question, really, because her eyes automatically checks the clock on the kitchen counter with a practiced ease and she instantly knows Alice has been home for about five minutes. Alice knows this too, so she keeps mum. Waverly is too engrossed in self-loathing to even hear the school bus drop Alice off, and the front door open.

Shaking her head clear while wiping her hands on a dish towel, she stoops to hug the girl. “How’s school?”

“We have a substitute teacher for arts and I don’t like her. I like teacher Mercedes. Her hair is red like Aunt Nicole’s!”

As if on cue, Nicole peeks into the corner of the kitchen with a sheepish smile. “Hi, Alice let me in.”

Waverly’s heart stops beating altogether. Nicole Haught-Pressman is in her home. _In_ her home, and the house is messy with Alice’s toys and clothes and books and Waverly’s various accoutrements for her side business. She hadn’t had time to clean yet, as it is just two in the afternoon. She isn’t even expecting a guest, the proof a mud-stained shirt in her kitchen sink, soaking on soapy water. This is embarrassing.

“I hope I’m not intruding?”

Waverly stops listing everything that is wrong around her right now. “Uh, no, it’s perfectly fine!”

“What’s a pine, Waverly?”

Waverly’s eyes almost bulges out of their sockets as she remembers, Alice tugging on the apron she’s using to protect her new shirt from getting wet. Did Nicole hear it too? The innocent look on the woman’s face screams no. Waverly really hopes that’s true.

“That’s nothing important, baby.” Taking Alice’s backpack off her, Waverly asks, “Can you change out of your uniform by yourself?”

“Yes!” Excited at the prospect of trying out how to be an adult for once, Alice jumps out of the scene and runs into her room upstairs, but not before Nicole throws her a wink, evidence of an earlier conversation between the two that Waverly missed entirely due to her rambling.

Waverly turns her attention to Nicole. “I’m sorry, the house’s a mess.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It looks, uhm…” Nicole takes in the messy living room, the even messier kitchen, and the woman in front of her, hair tied in a messy bun and a wet apron on her front. Everything around the place screams domesticity, the only missing image is a partner of some sort. “It looks like _home_.”

Waverly’s cheeks turn a shade of pink. “What-How… Is there anything you need? This is very unusual.” Backtracking, she rambles, “And no, not that I’m complaining. It’s just-it’s unusual and you don’t always come over, so there must be something you need or—”

“Ms. Earp.” Nicole closes a hand around Waverly’s wrist, effectively calming her down like a cool balm. “I was just bringing something over when Alice came home from school and she let me in.”

“Waverly,” the shorter woman whispers. “Just call me Waverly.”

“Waverly,” Nicole tries out the roll of her name on her tongue, nodding. “So, uhm, Waverly, it’s my birthday and I accidentally made one too many pasta, as one does on their birthday.” Nicole chuckles at herself, eyes rolling. “I was wondering if you would like some?” As a proof, she raises her other arm, hand holding up a bowl of said meal.

“Oh, happy birthday, Nicole!” Waverly catches herself half a second before she threw her arms around the taller woman, a close _freaking_ call, and squeezes her upper arms instead.

Nicole’s eyebrow twitches, almost too fast to see. It looks like she caught on Waverly’s almost hug too, but decides it isn’t her place to mention. Confused, she whispers, “Thank you.”

“There’s a birthday?” Alice comes bounding down the stairs in all her energy, as per usual.

“Slow down, little lady,” Waverly reprimands.

Alice considerably slows until she reaches them again. “Who has a birthday, Waverly?”

“Why, I do, Ms. Earp,” Nicole kneels to level with Alice, Waverly seamlessly taking the bowl from her hand to put on the dining table. Nicole tickles at the child’s stomach and is rewarded with a good high-pitched laugh.

For a second, Waverly is struck by the scene. At some other time, far, far away, Nicole is kneeling too, with a ring in her palms. And then Nicole is saying the same words not to Alice, but to her, in front of their friends and family in a small celebration of their union. And then Nicole is not playing with Alice, but with a child of their own, with bright red hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. But that’s all it is, a dream. The vision is gone as fast as it came, tear marks on Waverly’s heart the only proof it was ever there.

And then Alice is saying, “Happy birthday, Aunt Nicole. Are you eating with us?”

Nicole looks expectantly up at Waverly with big round eyes, mirroring Alice’s looks, the new height difference a pleasant change.

Waverly visibly grounds herself. As much as she would love to have Nicole over, she doesn’t think it will be a good idea. Not to the whole neighborhood, who probably saw Nicole come over, while her own wife is away. It can be a start of a rumor, something Waverly doesn’t want to get herself tangled into.

Then there’s also her feelings on the line. She knows it won’t be good for it. Like the water to her precious flowers, time spent with Nicole would just allow her feelings to flourish, and she can’t have that, no. She has to nip this feelings right on the bud and cut off anything that it might use to leverage itself onto for growth.

Nicole seems to have sensed the change in the atmosphere, brought on by Waverly’s internal battle. She stands up from her position, tucking a loose red strand of hair behind her ear, other hand not leaving Alice’s shoulder. She glances at Waverly, and then turns to Alice.

“I’m sorry, Alice. I would love to spend my birthday with you, but my day job is calling.” She smiles sheepishly. “I brought pasta, though, so you can celebrate for me.”

Alice is subdued, but she shrugs. “Okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Waverly asks, and both adults in the room know that it’s just formality at this point.

“No, it’s fine. I really have to give an output to this client ASAP. I love working at home, but, you know, sometimes freelance marketing has its cons.” Nicole chuckles.

“Okay, then. I’ll see you to the door.” Waverly gives a reserved smile. She sits Alice at the dining table, making sure she won’t touch anything, before following Nicole out. At the door, she thanks Nicole for the pasta.

“No problem. I hope you’ll like it.” Nicole waves tentatively, aware something in the air has changed and unsure of her welcome anymore. Her usually bright brown eyes are a little heavy-lidded now, strong shoulders slightly sagged.

Pretty soon, she is across the street and her front door is closed, so Waverly closes hers too. But she doesn’t go anywhere. She rests her forehead on the hard wood, eyes catching the marks of Alice’s boots lower down, a sign of her constant door-kicking. She can’t help but feel like this might just be the end of something. The end of what, she isn’t sure. But the instant both doors were closed, it felt like something died.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the next part of this isn’t entirely necessary if you don’t want it to be. You can stop reading here, as I probably would when I’m craving angst, and you won’t miss a thing. However, for the lot of you (including me, sometimes) who just can’t bear the thought of non-end game Wayhaught, then proceed onwards.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another world, Nicole Haught Pressman would be hers.
> 
> But it's starting to look like maybe in this world too.

“Hello, baby girl.”

The sound of Wynonna Earp’s voice over the phone soothes a decent amount of pain in Waverly’s soul, but it doesn’t heal all of it, not entirely, not like how it used to when they were young.

“Hi, Wynonna.”

Picking up the low timbre of Waverly’s usually cheery voice, the oldest Earp panics, “Is everything okay? Are you okay? How’s Alice?”

“Everything’s fine, Wynonna.”

Wynonna is never the settling down type. She loves to spread her wings and travel. However, when she got pregnant with Alice, the father a runaway dude, Wynonna was forced to be the adult she’s always supposed to be, especially with a younger sister to guide, too. So once she gave birth, no matter how much it wrecked her to leave her newborn child, she left Alice to the care of the only person she ever trusts.

She went abroad to work as a Product Manager for a technology company to provide both for her daughter and sister, who she swore should never have to work as long as she’s still alive. Waverly only ever needs to look after Alice. But Waverly, never being the sitting down type either, found a way to make arts and crafts her sideline business. She makes various house accessories for online selling, and combined with what Wynonna sends over every month, they all get by while living in a suburban neighborhood.

Wynonna calms a little bit, sensing not fear, but sadness, in her sister’s voice. “Are you sure, baby girl?”

Waverly takes a deep breath, folding her legs closer to her chest as she sits on the sofa. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to hear your voice.”

In this world, Waverly only ever has Wynonna and Alice as family. The other far relatives have faded into the background and are not a part of the three’s lives anymore. Alice’s grandparents have died what feels like a long time ago, too, when Waverly was just finishing off college.

“Oh, Waves,” Wynonna sighs. “I miss you too.”

“Alice misses you too, you know.”

Even from across the globe, Wynonna is an amazing mother and sister. It’s like she’s made exactly for this situation. She never forgets to call and talk to Alice in a week. Thrice a year she goes home for a couple of days, on Alice’s birthday, on Christmas, and on Waverly’s birthday. Those are Alice and Waverly’s favorite times of the year, because every single one of their family can be under the same roof once again, even better if they’re in the same room.

Although Waverly practically raised Alice herself and she’s as good as her own daughter, too, to the fact that the kid called her Mom for a while before they settled on first names, Wynonna will always be Alice’s mother. Waverly is perfectly happy being the cool aunt.

“I miss her too, so much. Do you kiss her goodnight every night for me?”

Waverly rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Of course. I give her a _ridiculous_ amount of kisses…”

She then goes on and on about all the activities she does with her beloved niece that Wynonna is sure to be jealous of. She even swears to do the same things once she got back home. They conversed more about other things too, all the while avoiding what Waverly actually called because of—her feelings for Nicole that just won’t stop bothering her. She’s just happy to be talking with Wynonna like the good old times.

Pretty soon, she had to pass the phone to Alice, who is already lying on her bed and ready to sleep. Upon closing the kid’s door halfway, giving the mother and daughter some privacy, Waverly already feels lighter than she has been since the last time Nicole visited her, two weeks ago.

***

To say that that was the catalyst of Waverly’s newfound strength to distance herself from Nicole is just about right. Since that day, their interactions went back to just throwing casual smiles and waves across each other’s front porches and lawns. No one dares to cross the road anymore and strike up an even longer conversation, and Waverly is perfectly good with it.

Or is she?

Because pretty soon she’s developed a habit of sitting on the floor, back resting against her closed front door. It seems to be the only place where she’s allowed to wallow in her unrequited feelings freely, away from prying eyes, especially those big brown eyes that makes her knees weak. But it’s also the only place that is closest to Nicole, although there’s still a good fifteen feet distance between their homes, where she could be her natural self, unchained to the neutral and polite persona that she fronts to everyone in the neighborhood.

So today, three _months_ after the catalyst, she presses her back harder against the door, gaining another inch closer to the house she so desperately wants to knock on. And she pushes back even harder, her feet firmly planted to the ground, when she hears Nicole’s car pull up into her driveway. The door is slammed harder than usual, and a second door is slammed too, then a muffled heated conversation streams down the street for anyone with good ears to hear.

“You already missed my birthday and now you’re missing our anniversary too?”

Waverly feels like an intruder to other people’s relationship, and really, she did not want to be privy to their marriage’s problems, but her knees have locked from keeping her place on the floor for a long time and she can’t pull herself up fast enough to walk away from hearing distance.

“You know I can’t miss this shift, Nicole. It’s my career on the line,” comes Shae’s much calmer voice. It’s deep and a little dark around the edges, a sign of emotions being held in.

“No, Shae! I’m just—” Waverly imagines a huff of defeat coming from Nicole. “I’m _so_ tired.”

“Let’s talk inside. Come on,” the doctor coaxes, and then there was the familiar sound of the Haught-Pressman household’s door closing.

Waverly stays on the floor for a couple of minutes, trying not to think too much of the fight, a fight that is getting more and more frequent as time passes. This isn’t the first time, definitely, because Waverly have heard them before, way into the night, the whole street succumbed to sleep but which eluded Waverly. She has heard them fighting then, and couple of days after that too, mostly about Shae’s ridiculous shifts at the hospital.

Apparently, the drama across the road is not done yet, because Waverly hears someone come out, the screen door hitting the wall adjacent to it, slam the car door close once again, and drive away way too fast for a residential neighborhood. It looks like Shae chose her job, after all.

Finally standing up, Waverly pushes off the door to try and make order of her living room. It’s a little therapeutic in a way that makes her feel like she’s got control of everything in her life, although she knows deep down that one specific thing—her feelings for Nicole—is long out of her control by now. But getting busy is the only way she knows to forget about that for a while.

Half of her mind is trained to the door, awaiting Alice’s arrival from school, the other half, trying not to think of Nicole Haught-Pressman alone on her wedding anniversary, a day that once has been something to look forward to. But not anymore.

***

Okay, so maybe Waverly didn’t intentionally make one too many lasagna tonight, but she happen to have done it anyway, and there’s no way Alice and her are going to be able to finish it themselves. And okay, maybe it’s a nice excuse to cross the street and knock on her neighbor’s door like Nicole did all those months ago before the good rapport around them has changed.

Waverly tried. Really, she did. But no matter what she does, she can’t seem to stay away from Nicole. The gravitational pull was too strong to even fight anymore, so she breaks. She breaks and reshapes herself and answers the call for her blood from across the road. She lets it engulf her like a flame that spreads way too quickly for anyone to properly react upon.

Waverly Earp is just too damn tired of fighting against it, so instead she _yields_.

Oh how good it feels to step out of that damned front door that she got herself stuck to for months, step out of it knowing that she will finally walk up the front porch that seems to have held Nicole for months too, and interact with Nicole. Waverly is going to be honest to herself, she swears. No more heavy atmosphere. She’s going to face this pain head on. Maybe that way, she’ll finally get through it.

Alice is tagging along next to her, because there’s no way she would leave the child alone at home, and she’s always wanted to spend time with Aunt Nicole since that day. She asks about Aunt Nicole out of nowhere sometimes, and it’s all Waverly can do not to answer her in a stutter. With the small interactions they’ve had, even smaller than those between Nicole and Waverly herself, it seems like Alice is smitten with her too.

Her charm transcends ages, apparently.

Heart on her sleeve, Waverly raps her knuckles against Nicole’s front door. The sign above it tries to taunt her away. _Haught-Pressman_ , it reads, but Waverly holds her ground, her pan of lasagna, and Alice’s shoulder.

“Waverly?” Nicole’s voice comes first before the front door opens and her dimples greet the two Earps.

“Hi, Aunt Nicole!” The small bundle of energy bounces on her feet.

Waverly shifts her weight from one leg to the other in an almost identical way. “Hi.”

“What a nice surprise!” Nicole opens the door wider now. “How can I help you two?” Realizing something, she supplements, “Is it because of earlier? Are Shae and I too loud? I’m so sorry. I don’t want the whole street to know our issues, but, you know, sometimes voices are raised when there’s just too much misunderstanding and—”

It’s Waverly’s turn to squeeze Nicole’s wrist while she’s in the middle of flailing them around in emphasis. She offers a kind smile. “No, that’s okay, Nicole. Fights are normal. You don’t have to explain to anyone.”

“Waverly made us lasagnas,” Alice jumps into the conversation, and Waverly is glad, for once, that her niece is made up of 90% energy and 10% human, because then she wouldn’t have to talk too much.

“Yeah, that,” Waverly adds lamely. “Although, I just—uh, I happened to have made a lot and thought maybe you’d like some.”

Nicole looks at Waverly then, _really_ looks. Her eyes roam from both her eyes, to her nose, to her lips, and then back to her eyes again, like she’s trying to decipher a puzzle. Waverly is afraid for a second that Nicole will see her feelings for her, but that doesn’t seem like the case because Nicole is a married woman and she never thinks of another woman, with her kid, no less, on her house as nothing more than a friendly visit.

The look in Nicole’s eyes makes Waverly feel like she’s very much aware of what’s happening here. Waverly is out on her front porch, with a pan of food in her hand as a peace offering, but more than that she’s offering her heart too. As a friend, again, because their connection seemed to have gotten broken somewhere along the way.

Waverly watches the options get weighed in Nicole’s eyes. On one hand, she can let Waverly and Alice into her home, into her life more properly, and celebrate her anniversary night with someone else’s family, a family she has come to adore. Nicole knows this is the option Waverly would prefer she choose.

On the other hand, she can turn the offer down and send both Earps home to finish their lasagna. If she’s lucky, Waverly might leave the whole thing to her. But no matter where the peace offering ends up in this option, it would also mean that she’s not interested to reconnect with Waverly. Nicole knows this isn’t the likely option, for both of them.

Waverly watches all of these play out in Nicole’s expressive eyes, and she almost immediately knows the decision before it is voiced.

“I would love to, Waverly.” Nicole beams, but it falters for a second, eyes taking a hopeful tilt. “Do you—uhm, do you wanna come in?”

Nicole Haught-Pressman knows what’s happening here, at least in part she does. She feels that her civil status is what’s making Waverly Earp walk on egg shells around her. Like her, Nicole is actually scared to start rumors, but she would love a friend, so she steps aside to make room if Waverly decides she wants to come in.

But it appears that decision is not up to the older Earp, because the little one squeals at the sight inside Nicole’s house and comes barreling through the front door. “Doggie!”

Nicole’s golden retriever, Stardust, makes a small yip and lets Alice fuss over him. Kids, apparently, are his favorite playmates. Both adults share a laugh at the cute scene.

“Well, it seems we’ve decided.”

“Ah, see, I knew I adopted a dog for a reason.” Nicole slips her a wink.

Waverly playfully slaps at Nicole’s arm as she finally, _finally_ , steps foot into the house. She comes in, heart on her sleeves, neighborhood rumors be damned.

***

Two days before Alice’s birthday, Wynonna comes home. Just in time, too, to get reacquainted with the community her daughter and sister is a part of before inviting everyone to her daughter’s seventh birthday. More than half the block said yes and almost all of Alice’s classmates are coming too. John Henry is even bringing his own son.

It’s going to be a big party. They found caterers so Waverly wouldn’t have to do everything herself. Even the planning was handled by the people they hired, so when the day finally rolls around, everything is perfectly in place.

Waverly’s only worry is her front lawn. She worked so hard on those hydrangeas that have only just started to bloom, and she’s scared people, especially kids, might trample over them. She prays on all gods and the universe that they will survive the day.

Presently, Waverly is busy welcoming the people that just never seems to stop arriving like a good hostess. She’s on the front door and ushering people to the backyard, where the tables are set up, with a small stage in the middle where clowns and magicians are performing. Kids are running all around, and one of the boys in Alice’s class already narrowly missed one of her precious flowers. It gave her quite the scare.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Sunshine.”

At the sound of his voice, Waverly turns from her conversation with Jeremy Chetri and Robin Jett, the couple who lives three houses over, and faces John Henry. He takes his baseball hat off as a gesture of kindness, gripping it close to his chest. He runs his other palm on his five o’clock beard and mustache.

“Lovely party you have here.”

“John Henry! I’m so glad you could come, and with little Timmy too!” Waverly kisses the boy’s forehead hello.

He’s in Alice’s class, and Wynonna have met them a couple of times before, when she was home. Like her, John Henry is a single parent, and they seem to hit it off that first couple of times they’ve interacted.

Waverly mentions to the two boys around her age to introduce to John Henry. “These are Jeremy and Robin, they live three houses down the street.”

“Nice to meet you, John Henry,” the two greeted in unison.

Pleasantries are exchanged and then she is ushering them to the backyard, inviting everyone to help themselves to the food laid out on tables around the area. John Henry and Timmy walks straight to where Wynonna is sitting in front of the stage, bouncing Alice up and down her knee, for greetings. Wynonna visibly brightens at the presence of the man with his son, and it brings a smile to Waverly’s lips.

Upon returning to the front of the house, three kids almost bump into her knees as they run around the house. Waverly ushers them to the backyard too, and then finally returns to her post out front. She hasn’t been there for fifteen minutes yet when a familiar soft voice calls for her attention.

“I was trying to get some sleep and your house is just too loud today, Ms. Earp. I thought maybe I’d come over and see what the ruckus is all about.”

Waverly laughs and playfully slaps at Nicole’s arm. “You’re horrible.”

Nicole laughs too and raises a big box into Waverly’s line of sight. “I brought little Ms. Earp a gift.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to, but I’m sure she’ll love it.” Waverly escorts her towards the backyard, too, as she did with all the others, a hand warm on her arm. It’s a habit they’ve easily fallen into, a couple of months after that reconnection. “And your plus one?”

Waverly immediately regrets asking that question as Nicole’s demeanor slightly drops. “Oh, you know Shae. She never has time for these things.”

 _I’d make time for you and these things_ , is Waverly’s first thought. But she buries it deep. Down into the darkest parts of her heart, and never let it anywhere near her lips, because that is out of line. They are friends, and even with feelings as strong as she has for Nicole, she’ll never cross that line. She’s fine with just having the chance to spend some time with Nicole, even if it still hurts to see her with Shae.

Before they take another step to the backyard, the three kids that have been running around all afternoon come barreling through between them and into the front lawn.

“Robert, stay away from the flowe—” Before Waverly can finish her sentence, said child, Robert from two houses down the street, topples on his own legs and lands harshly on Waverly’s hydrangeas. Waverly’s heart falls to the dirt. Nicole watches as honest-to-god tears collect on the corners of Waverly’s eyes. “No. They’re just blooming.”

Robert is full-blown crying now, with scratches on his arms. Before Waverly or Nicole can react, his mother is running to him and immediately brings him to his feet. She carries him to the backyard, trying to shush him, but not before saying how deeply sorry she is about the flowers, and that she’d keep Robert still for the rest of the day so he won’t ruin more of them. Waverly, always the nice girl she is, says it is okay. The flowers can always grow again, but kids are only kids for a while so they should be allowed to make the most out of it.

Nicole watches the whole exchange transpire with a small smile.

Waverly gives her a confused look. “What?”

“You’re great with kids, you know. I used to watch you and Alice before, and I thought for the longest time that she’s yours. But now that Wynonna is here, and I can see them together too, the resemblance in antics is uncanny. Who knew kicking doors open runs in the blood?” Nicole laughs.

“Well, it’s not on my blood, so,” Waverly shrugs, and then her face falls again as she looks at the ruined flowers. “I worked so hard on them.”

Nicole pats her shoulder, and leaves her palm there. “Hey, if it helps, seeing you work on the lawn is not so bad a sight first thing in the morning.”

Waverly slaps her forearm harder this time. “Again, you’re _horrible_!”

***

Wynonna is leaving in two days, and before she does, she corners her sister into a heart to heart talk on the living room because she needs to make sure of something, say something before it goes out of hand. Waverly’s ridiculous pining over Nicole is obvious, at least to her, who grew up in tuned to Waverly’s movements more than her words.

“So this whole _you’re horrible_ thing,” Wynonna begins. “What’s up with it?”

Waverly is on the floor, back leaning against the sofa Wynonna occupies, sprawled out. Alice is asleep upstairs, and finally the Earp sisters are alone.

“It’s just an expression, Wynonna,” Waverly brushes off.

In reality, Nicole will probably never understand why Waverly keeps calling her horrible. But Nicole is. She really _is_ horrible. She’s horrible because even through a rocky marriage, she finds humor in random things. She’s horrible because she makes Waverly laugh. She’s horrible because her beautiful heart just pulls Waverly closer and closer and closer ever since that first smile. Waverly is too close now at this point that she can hardly breathe anymore. And Nicole is horrible for it.

“Well, okay.” Wynonna sits up, really serious now. “The heart eyes, then? The lingering looks and touches? What are those?”

“Wynonna!” Scandalized, Waverly’s eyes widen. “Nicole is married.”

“I know. Which is why I’m worried about you. It’s obvious, baby girl, and some people would not take too kindly on that kind of relationship because one of you is married.”

“There is no relationship _relationship_.” No matter how painful it is to say, Waverly does. “We’re just friends.”

“Well, I have eyes, Waverly. You don’t think of her as just a friend.” Wynonna throws both hands up, emphasizing.

Waverly sighs, defeated. Wynonna watches as her expressive brown eyes that are an opposite of her cold blue ones tear up. “I can’t help it.”

“Aaah, _fuck_.” Wynonna slumps onto the backrest of the sofa.

“Exactly,” Waverly agrees.

“Maybe you can keep your distance?”

Waverly pulls her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top of them. “I’ve tried. It never works.”

“And keeping close to her does?” Wynonna glares at the back of her head.

“I think so? When she’s around it’s just _lighter_ , somehow.”

“You’re screwed, Waverly.”

“I know.”

A couple of silent minutes pass, both lost in their own worlds. Wynonna is the first to break it.

The older sister grabs at the younger one’s hair. She starts finger combing them flat, softly scratching short nails on scalp, until she could separate them into three sections. Wynonna proceeds to braid Waverly’s hair, like how she used to do when they were young.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, and this is gearing up to be heading that way.”

Waverly enjoys the feeling of Wynonna’s fingers in her hair, it brings her back to their childhood. “I know what I’m doing, Wynonna.”

“Are you sure, though?”

“I swear on Mama’s grave.”

Wynonna finishes the braid, leaving it hanging free for the lack of a hair tie to secure it with, and hugs Waverly from the back.

“Okay, baby girl. Just promise me you’ll abandon this ship the moment the water gets too rough?”

“I promise.”

And she does.

***

When the frail marriage finally sank on rocky waters, it didn’t surprise the whole neighborhood, most of all Waverly. It has been a long time coming. Everyone had seen it coming from a mile away, but that didn’t mean that Nicole didn’t fight for it, because fight she did. She fought for as long as she could before it was ultimately decided a failure, because Shae, in all the time she’s spent away, has been with someone else.

Cheating is the lowest possible level Shae can sink down to, and Nicole refused to sink down with her. When she found this out, she stood up and made Shae leave. She will not be made a fool, especially not in her own house. She fought so hard to fix their relationship, because that’s the kind of woman she is, loyal, and she thought the problem was in the miscommunication when during all those times, the problem, really, was another woman. So even if Nicole still wanted to save the marriage, in the end she decided it’s not worth it.

Nicole blocked everyone out for weeks after Shae packed up and left. Everyone but Waverly and Alice, that is. They are the only people she let in, let comfort her, along with the ever loyal Stardust who she gets to keep because he is Nicole’s to begin with.

Waverly was glad for this exclusive treatment, but she didn’t take advantage. No, she’s not the kind of woman who slithers into another woman’s recently broken heart. She was only there as a supportive friend, a pillar to help Nicole build herself up again through the rough times.

It was rocky, the situation they found themselves in at that time, and Waverly did promise Wynonna she’d leave when it so happens. She would. Really, she would stand up to that promise, but it just wasn’t rough _enough_ to warrant abandoning the ship. Nicole’s sadness wasn’t worth running away from. It’s like when the captain knows it’s just strong winds and not a typhoon that can possibly topple his ship.

Eventually they got through it, Nicole mostly. Because she’s strong and she’s brave and those are only two of the things Waverly love about her. She loves so much more than that about Nicole, but still, even when the waters have calmed, she kept her feelings hidden. It’s been so long now that it’s almost unconscious effort for her, almost like she doesn’t even know how to let it out anymore.

Presently, Waverly is tidying up her workspace when a knock is heard on her door. She yells wait as she finishes what she’s doing before opening the door. Nicole is there, as per usual. She’s wearing her soft green shirt under her brown cardigan again, reminiscent of the first day she’s moved in, then still happily married, but now happily single, and she smiled at Waverly from her front porch.

“Do you like apple pies?”

Waverly’s eyebrows draw closer, confusion evident in her face. “Yes?”

“It looks like I haven’t adjusted to living alone yet, ’coz I happen to have made one too many and I was wondering if you’d want some?” She raises said food in front of Waverly, a hopeful look on her face.

And Waverly knows what’s happening here. She’s done the same thing months and months ago, with her heart on her sleeve, and Nicole is doing it back to her now, no doubt having thought about it for a long time too.

To say that Waverly has never expected this day to ever come is correct, because she never did. Nicole Haught-Pressman was the married woman who lives across the street from her, who occasionally throws in a compliment and a greeting. But now she’s just Nicole Haught, papers to prove it just fresh off the court. She’s a newly built woman, but she still carries the same heart and set of dimples that now she offers to no one but Waverly.

Because it isn’t just the apple pie that’s on the line here, Nicole’s newly patched up heart as well, which is evident in her eyes and the soft look she’s giving Waverly, like she’s scared to be rejected, to be hurt again.

So Waverly assuages her fears, as she will in the years to come.

“Nicole, that excuse has been used too many times that it’s lame now at this point.” Waverly laughs. “You can come over any time you want, you know.”

“Can I come in?”

Waverly fakes thinking. “Hmm, I don’t know. I shall ask the lady of the house.” She turns to yell so she can be heard upstairs. “Alice, Aunt Nicole wants to come in. What should I tell her?”

A squeal is heard before Alice is running down the stairs.

“Slow down, Alice,” Waverly and Nicole says in unison. They share a look then burst out laughing.

“Come in!” Alice chants endlessly as she pulls Nicole into the house with her tiny little hands, straight to the kitchen so they can start with the pie.

Waverly follows them with her eyes, and she catches Nicole throw a look at her, one that screams there’s nowhere else she’d want to spend her birthday this year but in this home, or the rest of her remaining birthdays, for that matter.

It took them _years_ , but they’re finally here. Together. On the same page.

Waverly then closes the door behind her, and she swears the moment the lock clicked, something came alive.

***

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have sat down for 14 hours straight to churn this one out. It went out of control at some parts there, lmao. It's 4am here and I'm pretty sure there are mistakes out there. Just let me know so I can correct.
> 
> Also, let me know what you think?


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